The Lives We Live
by Bob Elder
Summary: What if the Animorphs never knew each other?


Author's Note: I don't condone drinking. But I figured a bar would provide the best setting. That's all I have to say about that. Oh, in this Alternate Reality the Animorphs _never_ knew each other when they were young, and the Andalites beat the Yeerks in orbit right before book #1. 

 

 

# The Lives We Live

 

By: Bob Elder

 

Marco lowered himself down onto the stool; it creaked as it took his weight. He set his black, imitation leather, briefcase on the floor and let out a sigh. The nuts off to his left looked appealing, so he took a few, and slid the bowl closer. What a day. What a horrible, horrible day. "Bartender?"

The man behind the counter put down the glass he was polishing and moved closer. After reaching under the bar he set a small square napkin down in front of Marco. "What can I get for you?"

"Just give me what is on tap." He set the money down on the bar, the bartender took it, and went to fill his order. Marco sighed again, and took a few more nuts. Could this day have possibly gotten any worse? His head sunk down into his hands. 

"You look like you need to talk." Marco looked up as the bartender put the glass down on the counter. 

He took a sip. "Nope."

"You sure? You look like you just lost your best friend."

"Nope." Marco said. "Just my job." he cracked dry a smile. "And my wife, and my car and I'm going to lose my house."

The bartender grimaced. "Now that_ is_ really bad. What happened?" 

Marco took a gulp of the beer, and reached for the nuts again. "My boss said I wasn't a good enough salesmen, so he fired me. I drove a company car, so they took it. I called my wife to tell her, and she said she was leaving me, and without my next paycheck, the bank is going to take my house. Does that spell it out nicely for you?"

The bartender shrugged. "Never mind pal. Just sit there and get hammered. Sounds like you deserve it." Marco agreed wholeheartedly. The bartender walked to the other end of the bar, and resumed his work with the glasses. The salesmen took another sip, and looked around. 

There wasn't very many people in the large room, hence the bartender's idleness. A few of the pictures on the wall were askew, giving the wall a slanted look. A small TV sat in the upper corner of the room, set to ESPN. This wasn't a "sports" bar, or a dining establishment. This was a place to get plastered. The customers knew it, the bartender knew it, and the owner knew it.

A ceiling fan turned lazily in the air. Marco called out for another drink, and loosened his tie. Just when the bartender was setting down a new glass, the chimes on the door sounded and Marco glanced back over his shoulder. 

A woman stood in the doorway. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail. As she made her way up to the bar, Marco saw that her right arm was incased in a sling and that her army fatigues brandished Corporal's stripes. "Get me a vodka tonic on the rocks, please."

"Sure." The bartender dropped another one of those square napkins in front of her, and moved to make her drink.

"Oh, you had better make that a double."

The bartender glanced back at her and nodded. Marco sighed and went back to nursing his beer, and wallowing in his self-pity. When the bartender set down the small glass, the woman knocked it back, swallowing the contents (even the ice) in one gulp. "Get me another one."

The bartender frowned, but moved to mix another drink. Marco turned his glass in a circle, spreading around the little ring of condensation that had formed on the bar. What a shit-hole everything had become. That was what the world was. One big, massive, shit-hole. 

The bartender set the drink down in front of the blond haired woman, and again she drank it in one swallow. "Another." 

"You had better take it easy. How abou-"

"No." she took a breath "Just get me another one."

Marco looked up, and decided that he liked her. That voice was strong and powerful. This was a no nonsense type of person. Without even thinking about it, he picked up his glass, and moved over to a stool next to her. "You had better be careful," he said "When you're drinking like that, somebody might get the idea that you want to drown your sorrows."

She turned to face him. "Well, that somebody wouldn't be wrong. I'm going to get so smashed, I won't even remember my name."

Marco smiled "Sounds like a plan to me." He drank the rest of his beer and said to the bartender, "Get me another one." The man behind the counter set the drink in front of the woman, and picked up Marco's glass; his frown taking in them both.

"So, What's your name?" Hastily he added "I'm Marco, by the way." and he held out his hand. 

"Rachel." She looked down at his hand like it was a snake. "I can't." and she made a little motion with the arm in the sling.

"Oh." Just then the bartender dropped down the beer and Marco moved to pick it up. 

Rachel's eyes landed on the wedding ring on his left hand. "So, are you married?"

Marco sighed "No. No. Not anymore, I guess. She left me." He hadn't thought about his ring. He had worn it so long that it felt like a part of him. 

"Oh, well then I guess I know what you're doing here." 

"Yep. I guess you do." They both took sips of their drinks. The bartender nodded to himself when he saw they didn't down them in one shot. "So, what are _you _doing here?"

She looked down at the counter top. "I kicked the living shit out of my commanding officer. It looks like they're going to court-martial me." 

Marco raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yep." She sighed and sucked down rest of the drink. "Bartender, get me another one." And then to Marco, she said, "He was an asshole anyway, but now my career is being flushed right down the crapper."

"That is not good."

"Yeah, you're telling me."

The door swung in again, sending a breath of fresh air into the smoky atmosphere in the room. Several people walked in and one of them sat down next to Marco. The bartender moved over to her and said "Hey, Dr. Smith! What brings you here?" The woman looked up sharply. "Oh, hello…um…Tobias? I didn't know you worked here." She smiled weakly "I am here to have a few drinks."

"Sure what can I get for you?"

"Surprise me."

"Okay then." Tobias smiled and moved to make a drink. 

Marco turned to face the new customer. "So, you're a doctor, huh?"

She sighed "Yep. I am Dr. Cassie Smith." She sneered at her own title. "Or at least, I'm supposed to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rachel leaned forward over the bar, so she could look at the other woman.

"I lost a patient today." Cassie looked down at the bar "I'm no doctor."

Marco took a sip from his glass and said. "Well, I'm sure you did everything you could."

Cassie sighed, and took the drink Tobias had placed before her. "Yeah. Whatever."

"What can I say?" Rachel said, trailing a finger along the surface of her newly made drink. "The world is a shit-hole."

Marco sighed, "I had just come to that conclusion myself."

Cassie laughed. "You two just figured that out? Every day I see people in the ER. Little babies are shot. Senseless violence and pain are everywhere, and they increase more often every day. The world _is_ a shit-hole. And has been for a long time." She took a long draw from her glass.

Marco chewed on his bottom lip. "Say, have you guys ever felt that things weren't supposed to be this way?" He shrugged, that was probably the booze talking

"Be what way?" Rachel said, "The world is what it is, there is no changing it."

"Too true. Too true." Cassie sighed.

Marco threw his head back and finished his beer. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He paused, "Bartender, can I get another one of these please?"

 

 

 

 


End file.
